She’s typing an answer before I can even think about putting down the phone. Will I have to wear the uniform? she asks.
Oh, definitely. We do inspections every Thursday. Hey, did we get run over by a truck last night? I type. I feel terrible.
Laurel takes a few minutes to respond and I wonder if I’ve somehow said the wrong thing. But then her message comes.
Sorry. Had to vomit. You were saying . . .
I laugh out loud, and send a crying-laughing emoji. As I’m waiting for her to type, another message comes through on a number I don’t know: Hi Claire. Rob here. From last night. Want to go out some time?
I quickly message Laurel: Which one was Rob?
Why?
He wants to go out some time.
He was the really hot one.
I turn to my photos of last night. The guys look equally hot.
Can’t tell which is hotter, I type. Then I pause. Why does it even matter – it’s not like I’m going to go out with anyone. Just realised it doesn’t matter, I message Laurel.
That’s the spirit, she answers. Go out with either! She follows that with a whole lot of eating, drinking, dancing emojis.
As if, I type.
I’m about to respond to this Rob person when my phone rings. It’s Daniel. But there’s no point putting it off.
‘You seemed to be having a fun time after I saw you,’ he says before even saying hello.
‘Sorry, what?’
‘Facebook,’ he says. Christ, is everyone in the world glued to Facebook twenty-four seven, waiting for Claire Marshall to post something?
‘Can I help you, Daniel?’
‘No need to be grumpy.’
‘I’m not grumpy. I’m tired. You know, from having a rare bit of fun last night.’
‘Who’re the guys?’ asks Daniel. I can hear that he’s keeping his voice carefully neutral.
‘Just some guys,’ I answer. ‘Did you phone me for a reason or just to interrogate me?’
‘Just showing some interest,’ he says.
‘Well, don’t,’ I say.
‘Okay, well, I wanted to know if you could keep Mackenzie this weekend. Julia’s really frazzled and having Mackenzie around is very tiring for her.’
I pause. ‘I’d love to help out your pregnant, back-stabbing mistress, Daniel,’ I say. ‘But I’ve got a date with one of those guys from last night. So you’ll just have to take care of your daughter.’
‘Which guy?’
‘The hot one.’
‘Oh,’ he says, and I’m tempted to ask him if he knows which one that is. ‘Which night?’
I improvise. ‘We haven’t decided. Both, maybe.’
‘Isn’t Mackenzie more important than a date with some gigolo?’ asks Daniel, and I remember how irritating he is when he uses a calm voice when he’s upset. ‘And just so you remember, we’re still married.’
‘Isn’t Mackenzie more important than Julia’s precious moods?’ I ask. ‘And being married didn’t bother you when you started fucking Julia, so spare me.’
‘I can hear you’re upset,’ says Daniel, still using his I-am-reasonable-and-calm voice. ‘We can talk when you’re more rational.’
‘It’s like you can’t recognise that you’re actually the person who’s one hundred per cent in the wrong here,’ I say. My voice is also calm now, because I’m more incredulous than angry. ‘Like you think you can have sex and a baby with another woman, but I’m the irrational one. I actually don’t know who you are any more, Daniel.’
He is silent for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is sadder. Like he’s about to cry. ‘I don’t know either, Claire. I don’t know how we got here.’
For a moment I feel sorry for him. But then I remember.
‘Ask Julia,’ I say. ‘Ask Julia how you got here.’
I don’t feel like speaking to him any more, so I put down the phone.
Julia
I’m in a strangely good mood after the lunch-time visit to my dad. Afterwards, I went and bought some attractive maternity clothes so I can feel better about myself. I also bought some pricey liquid foundation the shop assistant swore will hide my pregnancy-raddled skin. And to top it off I bought a pair of enormous sunglasses that glamorously hide my blotchy cheeks. Back at the office, Gerald didn’t say a word about the fact that I’d basically taken a three-hour lunch break. He smiled anxiously, and I went into my office and ploughed through more work than I’ve managed in the last three months.
When I get home, Daniel’s already here. He’s standing at the entrance like he’s been waiting for me, looking uncharacteristically worked up.
‘I tried to get Claire to keep Mackenzie this weekend,’ he says before I’ve even put down my keys. ‘But she was totally unreasonable about it.’
‘Why did you want her to have Mackenzie?’ I say, pushing past him to offload my shopping and myself on the sofa.
‘Well, you’re feeling so sick,’ he says, following me. ‘You need to rest.’
‘Actually, I’m feeling better than I was.’ I realise as I say it that it’s true. I’ve got through a day without feeling sick or wanting to vomit or thinking I might fall asleep at my desk. Granted it was a weird day with my mother’s behaviour, but still. Maybe I should ask my mum to behave strangely more often. It seems to give me energy.
‘Well,’ says Daniel, ‘Claire was totally unsympathetic about how you’re feeling.’
That stops me in my tracks. I look at him. ‘You told Claire that I didn’t want to have Mackenzie?’
Daniel shrugs.
‘But, Daniel, I would never stop Mackenzie visiting. I love having her here. She’s been learning to trust me, and I promised her that I’d take her to the zoo. And that aside, she’s your daughter.’ I feel fury building up inside me. ‘I cannot believe you would make Claire think I am so selfish. I cannot believe you would make me look so bad. I actually don’t even know why you’re discussing me with Claire at all.’
‘Anyway,’ says Daniel as if I haven’t spoken, ‘Philip’s invited me to the cricket on Saturday and I have a brunch on Sunday with a client from the States.’
‘None of which I’m invited to?’
‘Well, someone has to look after Mackenzie,’ he says, but he looks shifty. I wasn’t invited anyway.
‘So it didn’t suit you to have Mackenzie, so you tried to blame it on me.’ I’m not asking him. I’m just stating it as it is.
‘Claire is very unreasonable,’ Daniel repeats, as if in justification.
‘For Christ’s sake,’ I explode. ‘You left her for another woman who is now pregnant. How reasonable is she supposed to be?’
Daniel looks like I’ve slapped him. ‘Whose side are you on?’
Part of me is tempted to reassure him, but suddenly I’m tired. ‘Mine,’ I say, and my voice isn’t even angry. ‘I’m on my side, because no one else is.’ I walk past him into the bedroom, close the door, and kick the box, which still hasn’t been unpacked. Then I send two messages I never would have imagined sending.
The first is to my mum.
I liked your friends, I type. I think Daddy enjoyed having lunch.
And then I take a deep breath and type a message to Claire. It’s the first time I’ve communicated directly with her since Daniel left her.
I just want you to know that I didn’t ask Daniel to cancel Mackenzie. She is always welcome. Daniel is busy so she’ll mostly be with me, but if that’s okay, I would love her to come stay this weekend.
I push send. I plan to wait for an answer, but instead I fall asleep fully clothed, and I don’t even wake up when Daniel covers me with a blanket and climbs into bed next to me.
Claire
When the phone beeps, I almost don’t look at it. It feels like it’s been beeping at me all day. Over and above the usual emails and meeting requests and school WhatsApp groups, I’ve had Janice already planning a girls’ night, as predicted.
I know I’m being mean, but in her position I
’d have been more subtle – waited a few weeks before trying to resurrect the event I was left out of. I feel a bit irritated with her for being so clueless, but also protective of her for being so transparent. And I’ve had Laurel sending me texts all day that make me laugh, because she doesn’t ask me for anything. She’s just really funny. Mostly about my friends, so I feel a bit guilty enjoying it so much, but she is so right. And I’ve had this man called Rob who won’t take no for an answer.
After I spoke to Daniel, I briefly considered actually going on a date with this Rob person. At the very least it would solve the mystery of which is ‘the hot one’. But the truth is, whichever one it is, he’s too young for me. And more specifically, the thing Daniel pointed out is true: I’m married. I know I have the moral high ground here, that if I want to sleep with an entire rugby team I’m actually free to do so. But still. And even though it must be coming, we haven’t spoken about a divorce.
And I’m a mother. I’m not some fancy-free person who can take on a toy-boy. I told Rob all of this, but he seems to have taken my explanation as an invitation to chat because he keeps texting reasons why we should ‘hook up’ – his words, not mine. I’m not even sure if ‘hook up’ means have coffee or have sex. At this stage it doesn’t matter, because I’m saying no to both. But it is kind of flattering the way he keeps at it, without being disrespectful. After all, I am his elder.
So I presume that the new message is one of these things, and my head is pounding and I’m so, so tired, so I ignore it for a bit. But then I think that maybe it’s Laurel, and maybe that will cheer me up, or maybe it’s something really urgent, so I look at it. And it’s Julia.
My first reaction is that I cannot believe her cheek. If she needs to say anything to me, she can say it through Daniel. I almost delete it without reading it, but my curiosity gets the better of me.
After I read it, it’s like I’m feeling so many different things at once that I can’t feel anything. It’s even more conflicted than how I feel about poor Janice’s girls’ night out. There is anger with Daniel. No, not anger – that’s too mild. It is intense, burning rage. But there’s also a streak of amusement in the rage, because it’s so typical of Daniel to try to rearrange the world to suit himself without actually taking the blame. And there’s shame that I’ve been so harsh towards Julia in my thoughts. And pity – pity for Julia, that she’s found herself in this strange hinterland of my marriage. And admiration that she has the guts to send me a message, because that can’t have been easy. Part of me wants to pick up the phone and just chat to her, pretend that nothing’s changed, and have a few laughs. Maybe tell her that everything’s going to be okay.
Instead, I just text her.
Thanks for letting me know. It probably makes more sense for me to keep Mackenzie this weekend, but I appreciate what you’ve said.
I want to say more, and I stare at the message for a long time before I send it. But there’s no point – Julia and I can never be friends again. We must just be civil for Mackenzie’s sake. This is a good thing Julia has started.
Once I finally send the message, I sigh. Now I need to plan a fun weekend for Mackenzie. Before Daniel left, I didn’t feel this particular pressure. Our weekends kind of happened. And in a way they still do, but I’m more aware of the hours. I’m more aware of planning, making sure we’re busy, being the better parent.
After I send the message to Julia, I can’t settle. All evening I’m jumpy with Mackenzie, who then insists on having four stories read to her before bedtime, and after I get her to sleep, I keep checking my phone. I don’t expect to hear from Julia again – and I can see she hasn’t even read the message. For a moment I think it’s because she’s too busy fucking my husband, but then I realise that, given the message, it’s more likely they’re fighting. That should make me feel better, but it doesn’t.
Eventually, despite the hangover and despite feeling tired and groggy, I sit down with my phone and diary and laptop. First, I send out some messages to make arrangements for the weekend. Then, I do some of the work I should have done today. When I realise that sleep is still eluding me, I end up baking scones anyway, and I divide them into batches. Ivy could use some, and so could Liandri. And I can freeze some so that we’re ready for any surprise visits.
When the scones are done, I finally feel ready to go to bed. As I lie down, the phone beeps again. It’s that Rob character.
Just think about it.
That’s the thing, I muse, muting my phone. I haven’t thought about him for hours. I’m knee-deep in surviving my life.
THURSDAY
Helen
I am not one of these people who is always on their phone. I don’t do any of these social media things that people seem so fascinated by, and I don’t have lots of friends who message and WhatsApp me. I have a phone because of Julia, and because the home might need to contact me about Mike – although that has never happened in all these years. But they might. Like if he wakes up – I’d be really sorry to miss that call and only get there a few days later. Can you imagine? So, I have a phone.
But this morning there are not one but three messages for me. ‘An embarrassment of riches’ is the phrase that goes through my head, and then I feel confused that I am regarding this as ‘riches’ rather than a bother and a distraction.
The first message is from Julia. She sent it yesterday but I didn’t notice it. It says that she liked my friends and that she thinks Mike enjoyed the lunch. First, I laugh out loud with delight. At the sound, I look around. When did I last laugh by myself? The sound echoes off my walls, looking for a place to hide. But I am really so happy that Julia has said something nice about my friends. Or maybe I’m just happy that she sent me a message that wasn’t about a practical arrangement. I’m not sure when that last happened either. And I still feel sort of amazed that I am a person with friends.
I type, They’re not friends, they’re just some people, but that feels ungracious and untrue, so I delete it. I type, They liked you too, but that sounds trite and a bit dishonest because Julia didn’t really interact with them. She just sat there all bug-eyed. I giggle again.
I try, Thanks, but that sounds too bland – I want to communicate how happy she has made me. I decide to wait till I know what to say.
The next message is from Okkie. This is the first time Okkie has contacted me directly. He says, Thanks for letting us meet Mike. Xx.
I feel so touched, and kind of awed by a life in which I have this gay Ugandan man as a friend.
Thanks for wanting to meet him, I message back.
Why is it easier to speak to Okkie than Julia? That can’t be right. I try for a moment to think what to say to Julia, but nothing comes, so I look at the last of my three messages.
This one is from Edward, inviting me to a family lunch on Saturday: I’m thinking that if they meet you, they’ll understand better about people in our situation, he explains.
I’m a bit thrown. What exactly is he asking me? To come to lunch and be miserable so his family can see that this is normal? To come to lunch and be sociable so they can see that I am normal? To come to lunch and speak with expertise about the dull, lonely life of a person married to a person in a coma? To give them hope?
I’ll phone you later, I type back to Edward. Maybe I’ll feel more comfortable if he can explain what he wants from me.
I turn back my attention to the challenge of Julia’s message. I ask myself what I really want to say. What I really want to say is that I love her. So I write it.
Thanks. I love you.
But this isn’t how Julia and I are. We don’t do ‘I love yous’ and hugs and things. I’m worried it sounds insincere. I’m about to delete it but my finger slips on the screen and the message is sent. I think about messaging her again, telling her to ignore the last message.
But on a balance, that would probably be weirder.
Claire
Thank God I’m feeling better today. I get Mackenzie and myself up we
ll in time for school, and Mackenzie also seems easier than usual. There’s a moment when she can’t find her pink-striped knickers – the only pair she will currently wear – but by some miracle I convince her that the blue-striped knickers will do. This is an achievement I have never managed before.
I pack up the scones for Ivy and Liandri, and I pop one into Mackenzie’s lunchbox, together with her usual sandwich and snacks. I don’t know if she’ll like it, but it’s nice to give her something different.
I’m hoping that by getting to school a bit early, I won’t run into anyone I know, because I want to use this energy to get back on top of my work. But when we pull into the car park I see Janice’s car is already there. I wonder if I can dodge her, but the thing about Janice is that she always finds me.
I take Mackenzie up to her classroom, and Janice isn’t there, so I spend a few minutes catching up with the new art on the walls, letting Mackenzie show me hers. This she does with expansive arm movements and announcements of ‘This is my one. It’s the best.’ But eventually I have to leave, and as I’m walking down the path, I spot Janice lurking at the end.
I take a deep breath.
She feigns surprise when she sees me, and we air-kiss.
‘I’m so sorry I haven’t got back about the girls’ night,’ I start, but Janice interrupts me.
‘Oh, Claire,’ she says, touching my arm. ‘I’m so sorry but that’s off.’ I’m not really sure how to react but she barely gives me time to. ‘I was telling Dirk about it last night, and he got upset when I said I needed some excitement. So he’s taking me to Italy for a week without the kids.’
I’m about to comment that it really isn’t the same thing at all, and how typical of a man not to get that a night with friends fulfils a totally different need, but then I notice that Janice is beaming. ‘That’s lovely,’ I say. ‘I love Italy.’
‘It will be so glamorous and romantic and spontaneous,’ says Janice. ‘And I’ll post lots of photos on Facebook so you can all share it with me.’
The Aftermath Page 13
